


All That Glitters

by drikstreedur



Series: Gold and Gunpowder [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M, You're Welcome, flexing my pain muscles here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drikstreedur/pseuds/drikstreedur
Summary: In which it all goes wrong. Mostly.





	All That Glitters

Before the two walking down the sidewalk saw the eight members of the rival gang, they heard a gunshot, and Gavin literally leapt onto Ryan’s back in a last-ditch attempt at a self-preservation piggyback ride. Laughter and footsteps trode toward them, and Ryan pulled Gavin off his back so he could get into his jacket and pull out the concealed pistols from the inner pockets.

He managed to pop off a few shots, and took out two of the bastards shooting at them, but the others opened fire almost immediately after Ryan did. And from behind him, he heard a strangled cry, and the sound of someone hitting the ground. Bicolored eyes glanced back, and the sight before him was one of Gavin on his knees, hunched forward with one hand clutching his chest and the other to the front of his throat. He was gasping like a fish out of water, and the sound was a sickening one that was almost a gurgle. Eyes wide, face pale, lavender shirt bloodied heavily from two bullet wounds to the chest, and deep crimson absolutely dripping from his lips and down his chin. By the time shock subsided and Ryan could turn back to face the other gang members… Aside from the two he’d managed to shoot fatally in an instant, they were gone. Ryan dropped both his pistols and knelt down next to Gavin, desperately trying to get ahold of him properly so he could check the wounds and see if he could try to lessen the damage right now and help the poor Brit’s chances of survival.

But before he could try to move him, Gavin collapsed forward, horrendously still in Ryan’s arms. His eyes were half-open, but they were hazed over and lacked the shimmer Ryan was so used to seeing. A hand moved to Gavin’s neck, frantically searching for a pulse but unable to find one even where he knew he should be able to feel one.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, this couldn’t be how things ended. Bitter tears were dripping down his cheeks, and he clung to Gavin’s limp body as if his own life depended on it.

“Gavin please… Not like this… God, I love you so much Gavin, I can’t lose you like this… Please...” words left him, choked-off and pleading in vain for the other man to wake up. This just had to be some sick joke, right? This couldn’t be happening, right?

“Ryan, what the fuck is going on!?” a familiar Jersey accent could be heard off in the distance, and if Ryan had bothered to look up he would see the other four members of the Fakes running toward him, apparently having heard gunshots and gotten concerned. Four sets of footsteps slowed cautiously to a stop a few feet away from the two, one fallen friend and one grieving mercenary, and the reality sunk in to what had happened.

**_Gavin had been killed. They lost another one of their own._ **

* * *

The service was bitterly quiet, just as it had been a few years prior when Ray had taken the bullet of another sniper through the skull and his comms had gone silent for good. There was a quiet solidarity between the five remaining crew members, a sort of denial about this even being real.

But what surprised everyone was Ryan’s eulogy, and how heartfelt it was. They hardly knew Ryan had emotions half the time, much less how deeply he really felt for Gavin. Even after Ray’s death, Ryan had gone haywire for awhile and everyone eventually learned that Ryan had planned to confess love to him, but… This was twice he had lost someone he loved so dearly, and twice he never had the chance to properly say anything about it or show the other person what they meant to him.

And for the first time the Fakes had ever heard before, Ryan sang.

 

_ There’s no sunshine, this impossible year _

_ Only black days, and sky gray _

_ And clouds full of fear _

_ And storms full of sorrow, that won’t disappear _

_ Just typhoons, and monsoons _

_ This impossible year _

 

His voice was low and sweet despite the tears of horrific sorrow dripping unabashedly down his cheeks.

 

_ There’s no good times, this impossible year _

_ Just a beachfront of bad blood _

_ And a coast that’s unclear _

_ All the guests at the party are so insincere _

_ They just intrude, and exclude _

_ This impossible year _

 

His voice grew in volume, his tone wavering momentarily and his eyes closing from sheer emotion.

 

_ There’s no you and me, this impossible year _

_ Only heartache, and heartbreak _

_ And gin made of tears _

_ The bitter pill I swallow, the scar’s souvenir _

_ That tattoo, your last bruise _

_ This impossible year _

 

_ There’s no more air to breathe _

_ There’s no more in-between _

_ These nightmares always hang on past the dream… _

 

His hands shook, and he clutched the bottom of his suit jacket to steady himself, taking a deep breath and working up the final nerve to finish, for his beloved.

 

_ There’s no sunshine… _

_ There’s no you and me… _

_ There’s no good times… _

_ This impossible year… _

 

His knees finally gave out from under him, and he broke down sobbing, pleading one last time for Gavin to wake up, for this to all be one sick joke that had gone on too long. It took Michael and Jeremy to get him to stand up again and walk again. He had already slept by the casket the night before…

* * *

The Vagabond all but dropped off the map for awhile after that, his zest for adrenaline and carnage gone along with losing love again. He did little more than lie around miserably, a hollow shell of the Ryan Haywood the rest of the Fakes knew before. He hardly ate, he hardly slept, he had little interest in anything…

But one day, something just  _ snapped _ . Ryan was back to his old self out of the blue, but there was something wrong this time. He wasn’t just violent and bloodthirsty, but he was  _ reckless _ . Too few bullets, too many explosives, too high speed, too little care for himself or anyone else around him. Often he would slip out in the dead of night and come back wounded and yet uncaring for his own well-being. He had gone mad, but worse than that, he’d gone completely  _ numb _ .

The other four had no idea how to handle him and this new reckless lack of self-preservation he had developed. This was something unlike they’d ever seen in Ryan before, and it was more dangerous than any of them were really willing to intervene with on their own, or agree on how to intervene either.

But they proved to have taken too long one day, when they got a call from Ryan’s comms piece over their radio.

Sirens, shouting, gunfire… Ryan’s voice, dark and gruff, almost exhausted.

“I’m going out with a bang, boys.”

And the line went silent.

He was on top of a parking garage, surrounded by police officers and SWAT team officers on all sides, even above from helicopters. He brought two revolvers with him, each with eight bullets. Sixteen bullets, sixteen officers shot, five of them dead.

A manic grin was plastered across his features as he stood up from behind his makeshift cover. He was wearing a vest of questionable origin, covered in wires and attached to a remote. His thumb hovered over the button, quivering and looking ready to press it and kill everyone there and anyone else close enough to the parking garage to get hit by the concrete and steel from the blast.

But the remote hit the ground and shattered before he could set the vest off. His body hit the ground shortly after, marred by a single bullet wound through the head, right between the eyes.

He certainly had gone out with a bang.

...

...

...

* * *

He shot up in bed with a shout, his chest heaving rapidly and his cheeks wet with tears. One hand clutched his chest, the other felt his forehead as if to look for a wound that wasn’t there.

“Are you alright…?” a sleepy voice from beside him mumbled out, moss green eyes looking up at him unfocused in the dark bedroom.  _ It had all been a nightmare _ .

Ryan didn’t respond verbally, but instead yanked his lover up from his place next to him on the mattress and hauled him into a tight embrace. A quiet sob escaped him, and Gavin managed to add one and two together quick enough to figure out that Ryan had a nightmare, and likely one about him. Quietly, he wrapped his arms around Ryan, one hand reaching up to stroke through long blond hair. He cooed and gently shushed the other man, practically rocking him and holding him to his chest.

“It’s okay, love… I’m here… I’m here… I promise I’ll stay, always…”

**Author's Note:**

> You thought I'd kill them both off at part 5? I'm not THAT cruel.


End file.
